


Suspicious Reunion

by StevetheIcecube



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 19:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15893004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StevetheIcecube/pseuds/StevetheIcecube
Summary: Mikhail had been on his own for a while when he came to join Torna. As such, he was treated with suspicion when he recognised someone from his past who no longer recognised him.





	Suspicious Reunion

When he was little, he never really thought about what was going on. Well, he did, but he didn't think about the long term consequences or anything like that. All Mikhail had been able to think about was putting one foot in front of the other, thinking about where he'd sleep that night, if he'd have anything to eat, if he'd be able to sleep through the night. They were all immediate problems that didn't go away for a very long time.

And by the time they'd gone away, he was completely alone in the world. Blade eater technology had been officially restricted to the Praetorium and they said they'd never do it unless in the case of real emergencies and only with the consent of the blade involved because of how dangerous and long lasting its effects were. 'We don't want to be the next Judicium,' they'd said, and with those words they condemned him.

In a world where, officially, he didn't exist, it was pretty difficult to get people to understand what was going on with him. He couldn't alert anyone to the true nature of his being because if the news got out, he'd just be on the run again. People saw him as human, because he looked normal. Blades could feel the ether flow around him and assumed he was a blade. Thankfully, they rarely said anything, even if they did suspect that something was up.

It was a thoroughly lonely existence. He lived on the fringes of society, feeling like he could never engage in case something went wrong and he was revealed to the Praetorium. He couldn't go to school; he couldn't explain why he hadn't had an education for so many years. How long had it even been? He hadn't been keeping track of the years since he'd last had a friend. It hurt to think about.

Of course, the thoughts always crept in. Milton, by then a Gormotti teenager rather than a Gormotti child, standing with his back to Mikhail, watching the front entrance to the little hovel they were staying in as Praetorian soldiers banged on the entrance. Mikhail had been crying. In the night, the core crystal embedded in his chest had changed its form, no longer the rough lump that had been stuck there. He'd been scared of the changes. Terrified of what was happening to him. His screams, the outpouring of ether, it had drawn the soldiers to them. And then...and then.

Milton had demanded that Mikhail leave immediately. He said that it wasn't safe for them to both escape, because they'd just be pursued, but if Mikhail ran then he'd have a chance at survival. He wanted to be able to say to himself that he'd refused to leave Milton, that he'd stood his ground and faced the mistake he'd made. He wanted to say that he'd fought off an entire brigade of soldiers to defend the boy who had become an older brother to him.

But he hadn't. He hadn't stayed. He hadn't insisted that Milton go instead. He hadn't done anything, said anything. Well, he'd done nothing except run far, far away, and he'd only stopped when he realised he'd run as far as he could go, at which point he realised it was far too late to save Milton. He'd left the only person he had to die without even thinking about it. He'd just been so afraid that he'd done it.

When he remembered, Mikhail was sickened by himself. He was a despicable coward and he deserved to be alone. If he had tried to find someone, they probably would have met the same kind of fate. And if they hadn't, they'd probably come to loathe him and his cowardice. 

Loneliness was terrible. He didn't want constant company, of course, but he missed being able to confide in someone. Even if it was easier to feed and hide one person rather than two, Mikhail still didn't think it was worth being alone. The problem was, he didn't know how to search for someone who could fill the gap that had been left.

He tried to fill it with everything else that he could. Knowledge, mostly. There were so many things to learn in this world and he seemed to have a lot of time to learn it in. So that's what he did. People didn't search libraries for the pesky homeless boy or for an orphan feeling the Praetorium. In books, he could be safe. Properly safe.

And, in the end, books led to company. Because Mor Ardain was an old titan, full of the longest running records in Alrest. It was interesting, so he learned things from them. The librarian was used to seeing him. Her short greeting every morning and farewell when she ended her shift were the closest he got to company.

But then there was someone else looking for an old record, and that changed everything for Mikhail. He had just finished reading a book, so he went to put it back on the shelf, but there was someone standing in front of the shelf. He was taller than Mikhail, which wasn't hard because he was pretty sure that his growth was stunted by something or other, and he was wearing a cloak. 

Mikhail waited for a few minutes in case the man decided to move, but he just stood there, examining the bookcase. "Excuse me," he said quietly. "Could I just put this back?"

The man turned to face him and he stepped backwards. Oh Architect he should have been paying more attention to the ether flow. He'd forgotten to check if there were any blades nearby and this...this was Jin. He stepped away from the shelf without saying a word, clearly not recognising him. Mik wasn't sure if he should be pleased or upset. "J-Jin?"

Jin's expression went from distant to immediately cautious. "I think we should step outside," he said. His voice was cold. Mikhail nodded shakily, never really having had this side of Jin directed at him before. 

Torna had sunk. Did Jin still remember him? Who was he with now, and why was he on Torna? Or had Lora survived and brought him here? Maybe Jin had no idea who he was or even what Torna was. The thought really hurt him. Jin had been so important to him, however long ago it was now. If that was all wiped away...Mik would feel like no one.

"Who are you, and how do you know me, blade?" Jin demanded the moment they left the building. Of course, if Jin didn't know him, then he'd just feel the ether flow and assume.

And now he was at a loss as to what to say. How could he explain this? If Jin had returned to his core, it would be impossible to get him to understand the connection between them. "Do you- do you still remember Torna?" He asked.

Jin's expression immediately changed to one of sadness. "I will never forget," he said firmly. "I cannot forget."

Mikhail wanted to smile, knowing that Jin would remember him, but the intense pain in his voice and expression told him that it wasn't something to smile about. Jin had suffered, and knowing that blades could outlive their drivers...Mikhail had a good idea about what might have happened. It definitely wasn't something to smile about. "I'm Mik," he said. "The boy you- you and Lora rescued when I was left alone."

Jin's expression changed again. It was something Mikhail couldn't read anymore. "I don't know who you are, but don't lie to me," he said. "Mikhail was human. And that was nearly two decades ago now. Tell me what you really want."

Two...two decades. Architect. Mikhail didn't feel like he was thirty. That didn't make any sense at all. "I-"

"You should come with me regardless," he said, a cold edge to his tone. "And you can tell me who put you up to do this."

"I-I promise I'm the person I say I am!" He said. "Why would anyone even have known who I was twenty years ago? Or who I was with? And how would they know that you would be here?"

"That's why you're coming with me," he said, placing his hand around Mik's arm. The grip was firm and unforgiving and nothing like the Jin he'd known so many years ago (so many more than he'd imagined). "So who's your driver then?" He asked. "Some Indoline monk at the disposal of Amalthus' whims?"

Mikhail flinched on even hearing the name of that man. "I don't have a driver," he said. "And if I knew how to do anything that a blade could, Amalthus would be the last person I would serve." The memory of lying suspended in the air, unable to move while Amalthus loomed over him, searing a core crystal into his flesh bit by bit came all too easily to him. He shuddered. 

"So why are you here?" He asked. "A blade without a driver can only mean flesh eater. So who told you to come here and speak to me?"

"Please, you have to believe me." The thought of Jin leaving him alone again entered his mind and the future crushing loneliness he would feel almost brought tears to his eyes. He couldn't bear being on his on again. "I spoke to you to ask you to move and then I recognised you. That's all. No one sent me."

Jin led him through several streets, not saying even a word to him. Mikhail knew vaguely where they were going until Jin ventured into the residential area of the city, which he never went in to. It was impossible to sleep rough in that area. They went down three sets of rickety stairs before coming to a stop outside a door. Jin knocked a specific pattern, and the person who opened it was the last person Mikhail had ever expected to see.

Malos. He tried to take a step back, tried to get away from the man who had caused him to live in terror for several long months. Why was he here? Jin was the person who had helped bring Malos down. This didn't make any sense.

"This blade is claiming to be a human I once knew," Jin said, and the way Malos looked at him made Mik nothing but deathly afraid for his life. Well, it hadn't been a good one or a long one.

"Bring him in," Malos said. Architect, it was Malos. Malos, who Jin had loathed for his neverending drive towards destruction. Malos, who Jin had always vowed he would never support, even if they shared the odd viewpoint. Malos, who had burned. But was now here, alive, and probably about to kill him slowly and painfully.

Jin pushed him into the tiny building and followed him in, closing and bolting the door behind him. He'd really managed to get himself into some shit this time, hadn't he? "What do I need to do to convince you?" He asked. 

"Explain why you're trying to deceive us and we might let you go," Jin said. "You're not Mikhail. Mikhail was-"

"Mikhail was human," he said, interrupting him. "Mikhail was a little kid who, when the war was over and his home lay devastated and his new family were nowhere to be found, he was picked up and he went to Indol as a refugee. More like a prisoner of war.

"Indol always were the successors to Judicium. Flesh eaters had been so wildly unpredictable; a failure, even. So they decided to try a different approach. With human children and core crystals." With that, he indicated where his core crystal lay hidden under his jacket.

"A likely story," Malos said, and Mikhail could hear the biting sarcasm in his voice. They still didn't believe him. What could he even do? "Tell us something that no one else could know, if you really are Mikhail."

Mik's mind scrabbled around desperately for something, anything he could say that would save his life. He didn't even care about the company anymore, he just wanted to get away from here. "When Lora and Jin found me, they'd been separated from Haze," he said. "And I was alone. I was afraid of Jin. Deadly afraid because he wore a mask and that was bloody scary. But Jin was also the greatest cook ever." Mikhail risked a glance up at the pair of them, who were watching him intently, and he saw Malos smiling slightly. "He used to cook for us because our other option was Mythra and if she cooked we'd probably all have died."

Jin laughed, but the sound was mostly without humour. "You can stay here," he said. "Malos and I need to talk this over. Maybe you are Mikhail. Maybe you're not. You've got a lot of proving yourself to do, kid."

"I'll have you know I'm nearly thirty years old," he said, attempting to regain some dignity after basically opening up half the painful wounds in his past for the sake of saving his own life. This was not the Jin who had practically been his father after his village burned. That Jin would have hugged him. But he guessed he had to deal with that now. The world was a cruel place and only getting crueler. All he could do was survive and hope for the best. Out of spite for Amalthus, if nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> Look I'm highkey Torna trash and I just want Mikhail to be happy but instead we're just getting more sadness for him.


End file.
